


First Born

by Fericita



Series: When All Is Lost [28]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies), Frozen 2 - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 16:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21832381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fericita/pseuds/Fericita
Summary: Agnarr and Iduna await the birth of their first child.Part of the series "When All Is Lost" about Agnarr & Iduna's relationship, mostly canon-compliant.
Relationships: Agnarr/Iduna (Disney)
Series: When All Is Lost [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571230
Comments: 10
Kudos: 88





	First Born

Iduna wanted to give him a child right away. She knew it was important to the kingdom, but even more she knew it was important to Agnarr. The monarchs of Arendelle had a tradition of dying young, more often than not as the only child of an only child. Some in the village whispered that it was a curse placed on the royal line after the trolls were run up into the mountains. Iduna didn’t hold with that, and not just because it would mean she had a short and grim future. Trolls were tricksters, sometimes able to interpret or see magic that others could not. Occasionally, some of the most powerful ones were able to use small magic if the old tales were to be believed. There were even Northuldra stories of trolls making a man lose a cargo of mushrooms from his sled or enchanting a man into marrying a stranger, but never ones about cursing a kingdom. Iduna was certain a good midwife would help her more than trolls could harm her. She had already dealt with trolls and their impossible command to leave her homeland. What more could they do to her?

She could tell Agnarr was worried by the way he smiled in a thin line, no teeth showing, no dimples. He ordered Midwife Jora to take up residence in the castle during the pregnancy before it was even clear to others that she was carrying. Iduna knew his mother had died during childbirth and did what she could to calm his fears. “I’m strong, love - healthy. My mother had four children, all easy births.”

Speaking of her mother, thinking of her mother, and missing her mother were daily chores. She counted on the repetition to help the overwhelming grief of it seem bearable. She had mourned her mother as lost to her years before, but becoming a mother herself made the loss fresh again. Would the baby have her mother’s blue eyes? Her father’s height? Would she be able to remember the lullabies of her youth? Who would teach her how to nurse and how to swaddle?  
Midwife Jora saw her tears and patted her arm. “It’s to be expected, many women cry and fuss over nothing and everything during this time.”

One thing was not as expected. Iduna felt cold the entire pregnancy. "Most people feel hotter while expecting," Gerda said as she rang the bell for more tea for the queen. Agnarr took over tending the fire in their room, hoping to keep a closer eye on her and to help his wife stop shivering. But the fire didn’t want to behave, leaping in tall bursts and then sputtering down to embers whenever Iduna so much as shifted in its direction. It left her uneasy, and she wished she could remember more about curses and magic and what her people knew so much about.

At night he rubbed her arms until she fell asleep and slept with her pressed against him. He wore thicker clothes to keep himself warm and worried about what this might mean for her health and that of the babe. In the seventh month, Midwife Jora felt the queen’s stomach and announced the baby a healthy size and weight. "Carrying can do all sorts to a woman. I've seen feet get larger and stay that way, mothers-to-be who felt itchy the whole time, some who could no longer stand the taste of potatoes. I'm sure you'll be right as rain when the baby comes. You're growing a whole person in there, your majesty."

Iduna wasn't worried about feeling cold; Arendelle on the whole was a much warmer place than the home of her youth. But she worried for the baby, and worried that this unexplainable cold was a portent of magic. Could that be why even in the steaming hot bath, she felt a pull and a push in the water? Or why even the wind felt more like a kindred spirit than it had since she left Northuldra? She wished for her mother and for the knowledge of magic the Nothuldra had. Something about this baby felt magical, and she wanted assurances it was good magic.

When she was so large that Agnarr fastened her shoes on for her each morning, he gave her a gift that was so precious, she cried. 

“It’s a shawl. For the baby to have as a blanket. I had the weaver make the same symbol as the one on yours,” he grinned, shyly, as if they were once more young teenagers. “The same as the ones I had put on my coat.”

Iduna wept, holding the shawl to her chest, her tears falling down on it and soaking into the beautifully woven fabric. “It’s perfect.”

Agnarr smiled, pleased he had not gifted her with something terrible. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to remember his gift to her on her sixteenth birthday without embarrassment. A golden mortar and pestle had seemed like such a thoughtful gift at the time. He hadn’t known that gold was so malleable, but Iduna had told him, laughing, pleased that he would give her a gift to celebrate her new position at Old Man Visser’s Apothecary after she left the orphanage.

“I remember you saying Northuldra children receive one at birth,” he murmured as he kissed her cheek. “I know this isn’t the same, I know it’s not as treasured as your own mother or grandmother making it, but we can treasure it together.” 

Iduna wrapped herself in the shawl, thinking about how her mother had wrapped her in a new shawl at birth, again longing to talk to her about this new life growing in her, the coldness she felt, the strangeness of the elements around her. It was a lonely feeling.  
***  
Cradling Elsa, she studied her daughter’s translucent fingers and pale hair, her impossibly small ears and large blue eyes. Iduna stroked her cheek and hummed, starting a lullaby she had not thought of in years. It was an old song that her mother had sung to her in another life. Agnarr put one of his large fingers into Elsa's hand; it opened and closed around him like a morning glory, unfurling and then closing the splendor of its petals.

Where the north wind meets the sea  
There's a river full of memory  
Sleep, my darling, safe and sound  
For in this river all is found

In her waters, deep and true  
Lie the answers and a path for you  
Dive down deep into her sound  
But not too far, or you'll be drowned

Yes, she will sing to those who hear  
And in her song all magic flows  
But can you brave what you most fear  
Can you face what the river knows

Where the north wind meets the sea  
A coldness, settles deep in me  
Come, my darling, homeward bound  
When all is lost, then all is found

Elsa did not seem sleepy hearing the song; she merely blinked and continued to open and close her hands. Agnarr looked down at the baby’s hand in his and saw a single, perfect snowflake.  
***  
Elsa cooed and smiled and sometimes made icicles grow on the ends of her fingers and toes. She started to crawl and the ground beneath her would occasionally turn to ice. To Iduna’s surprise, Agnarr was delighted. “Most people think their babies are a miracle, but our Elsa really is! Look what she can do!”

Iduna started to form an idea that gave her a hope she had given up the day Agnarr proposed to her. “I think the spirits have gifted us with a magical child. I think Ahtohallan is telling us that the mist is open, and Northuldra is safe.”  
Agnarr thought of a lot of reponses: Was Northuldra ever safe? Was a talking river of memory a good thing to listen to? Would an opening in the mist mean the end of peace for Arendelle? But he saw the hope in her eyes, knew she longed for her mother, and knew he would do anything to give her a new moment with her family. 

He would do anything for another moment with his father, to ask him if he wore the crown well, or to know what his mother’s voice sounded like and what it would feel like to have her ruffle his hair. Traveling to the mist and seeing if the forest was open was something he could do for his wife, for their family, and the good of the kingdom would have to come in second place. They could go without royal insignia and soldiers, just alone, as a family of three.  
***  
It had been hard to convince Gerda and Midwife Jora that an outing in winter without the palace guard made sense, but King Agnarr claimed it was a royal tradition to pay homage to the trolls and no more questions were asked. When they came to the place, no trolls were present, and the hill that had been Flemmy was now completely a part of the landscape.

She saw the stones and shivered. The mist was still there.

Agnarr walked up to it carefully, but was pushed back after reaching a hand out to make contact. Iduna passed Elsa, wrapped in the newly woven shawl, to Agnarr before she walked closer.

“Perhaps it has to be me. A Northuldra.” Iduna touched the mist, but was pushed back with a stronger jolt, and she fell to the ground.

Agnarr rushed to her and helped her stand. “Do you think Elsa needs to touch the mist?”

Iduna drew a shaky breath, taking Elsa back. She could too easily imagine her daughter being hurt by the force of the blow. “ I won't risk it.” 

She checked Elsa’s blankets to be sure she was warm and covered, though the cold never seemed to bother her. 

"It’s alright." Iduna swallowed and kept her voice steady. It's alright.” Agnarr drew close, seeing how her shoulders caved in and her hold on Elsa grew tighter. "It was just an idea. It's fine if it won’t open.” She tried, and failed, to smile. “I'd rather not cause a war or have Ahtohallan claim our baby.”

Agnarr took Elsa from Iduna and cradled her in one arm as he wrapped the other around Iduna, drawing her close. “No one will harm our baby.” He sighed and stared at the shifting mists. He had heard her crying in her sleep during the pregnancy. Heard the names she had entrusted him with spill from her lips as she stirred. “And I would give anything for you to see your family again.” 

“I don't even know if they're in there,” She said softly. “Or alive. Or traitors.” Her voice broke. “Or if they would kill me on sight for wearing Arendellian clothing, or if they murdered your father, or if they would murder you.” She let out a sob. “Or our daughter.” 

Agnarr’s gripped tightened and he rested his head on the top of hers. “Your family, whatever else they may have done, always loved you. You know they loved you. They love you still. And we will tell Elsa about them, so she will be ready to love them when the mist does open.” 

"No, please,” she shook her head and wiped her eyes “Please we musn't tell her. I don't want her to know your father was likely killed by my people. I don’t want her to know that a river of memory might drown her if she looks for answers about her magic. She will be happy with the ice and snow she makes.”

“If you think that’s best, that’s what we’ll do.” Agnarr watched her face, and saw that the tears had ceased. 

Iduna nodded, relieved at his words. “ She doesn’t need to be burdened with stories of elemental spirits in a forest she can’t visit. She does not need to know her mother’s family is punished, cursed and trapped in the woods.”  
The ride back to the castle was slow and cold, and they stopped several times for Iduna to nurse. Iduna stroked Elsa’s nose and sang an Arendellian lullaby about a snowman. Agnarr sat with his body around Iduna, shielding her from the wind, and so she would not see his grief at her sadness. She had enough to bear already. 

Iduna and Agnarr never came back to the mist.


End file.
